Show Me How to Dance
by Rose and Thorn
Summary: With Susan sick, Peter and Edmund are forced to entertain a very bored Lucy. Unfortunately, Lucy's entertainment involves the embarrassment of her obliging older brothers.
1. Edmund, the Mona Lisa

**AN: **The little plot bunny bit again and wouldn't let go until I wrote this. His name is Morris. Blame him. I think I want to add another chapter to this. Let me know if I should. In the same sort of style as _Peter, Magnificent One, and Edmund the Dazed_ this could probably be its twin.

**Disclaimer:** Lewis owns the Chronicles.

* * *

Susan was sick; Lucy was bored; and Peter and Edmund were currently watching the latter with a look of wary cation on their faces.

"Don't move a muscle," Peter whispered to his brother through clenched teeth. "Don't you remember what happened the last time Lucy was bored and Susan wasn't there?"

"That was worse for me, you know," Edmund snapped back, remembering a time and place, not so long ago by Spare 'Oom years, which still haunted his nightmares just as frequently as the White Witch did.

(Flashback)

"Peter! Peter! I'm boooored."

Peter Pevensie, now High King of Narnia and ever obliging older brother, laid his quill down without so much as a grimace. He looked at his younger sister with a fatherly smile.

"I'd really like to help you, Lu," he said, with an apologetic tilt of his head, "but this paperwork is snowing me under. Why don't you go ask Susan to do something with you?"

Lucy's smile slowly dropped, as she looked at her brother with an air of quiet submission. "Susan's gone to visit the Dryads," she muttered. Peter could have sworn he saw her nether lip quiver. "And Mr. Tumnus has a head cold."

"What about Ed?" Peter asked, his voice now taking on a tone of wariness.

"Well," said Lucy, moving so that she was standing on one leg. "I was sort of hoping that I could do something with both you and Ed today. Edmund's in a grumpy mood, and you know when he's like that only brute force or a kind tongue really works."

Peter leaned back in his chair with a submissive sigh. "And you want me to be the brute force," he said.

"Yes please, Peter."

Peter, rising slowly from his chair, stretched his stiff muscles experimentally. "Couldn't you just use a bucket of cold water?" he asked, trying his best to keep the whine out of his tone.

"That would just make him mad. I want you to use your "Play with Lucy or else" line. That usually works."

Peter stopped in his tracks. "Oh, you want the threat approach?" he asked, looking slightly relived that he wouldn't have to crack his brother's head open.

"Of course," smiled Lucy. "What did you think I meant?"

Peter mumbled something about cracked skulls (earning him a puzzled look from his sister) and led the way to Edmund's chamber.

_Knock. Knock._

"Open up, Ed. Lucy and I want to talk to you," Peter hollered, beating on his brother's door with his fists.

The door opened and a dishevelled and cranky looking Edmund made his appearance.

"Whatdoyouwant," he slurred, rubbing his dark hair until it looked like a bush.

"I beg your pardon?" Peter said questioningly, before exchanging a slightly amused glance with Lucy. "Ed, what were you doing?"

"Slurping," Edmund said, looking up at his brother with groggy eyes.

"Slurping?"

"No, no," Edmund waved his hands around in a dazed manner. "Sleeping. Very nice. Woke me up, you did. What do you want?"

Peter, glad that his brother was becoming slightly more intelligible, smiled charmingly, took a deep breath, and said:

"Lucywantsyoutoplaywithher." He then dodged his brother's flaying fist.

"No," Edmund said, leaning against the door post and closing his eyes. "Too tired. Must sleep. You play with her."

"Edmund," said Peter, shaking his brother by the shoulders. "Why are you so tired in the middle of the day?

"I had a sword-fighting competition with a centaur," the youngest male Pevensie explained. He opened one eye cautiously. "Look, I tink I've got twelve bruises." Rolling up his sleeve he gestured to _ten_ purple spots on his forearm.

"You _tink_? Peter laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Shuddup, Peter," Edmund said, in what he meant to be a menacing tone. It came out as rather more of a whine. "Let me sleep." He slumped to the base of the door. A soft snore reached Peter's ears.

"Oh, no," he mumbled, grasping his brother's shoulders and hoisting him to his feet. "Lucy wants you to play with her. She wants both of us, in fact. Wake up!"

Edmund, being subjected to a rather vigourous shaking, opened his eyes wide and kicked Peter's shin. "I don't want to!" he exclaimed. Turning to his sister, he shot her a death glare. "Find your own darn amusement!"

Lucy gasped. Peter inwardly smirked, but managed to hide it behind a fierce exterior. "Hold your tongue," he barked, surprised at how angry his voice sounded. He dropped the youngest boy onto his feet and glared him down. "You're going to play with Lucy, Edmund."

Edmund, rather subdued by Peter's expression, turned to his sister and asked, between gritted teeth: "What do you want to do, Lucy?"

For a moment, Lucy's smile faltered. Twisting her hands into the fabric of her skirt and biting her lip, she looked up into the blue and brown eyes of her brothers.

"You may not like it," she said, recovering her smile.

"What is it?" asked Edmund, a look of curiosity on his face.

"Well," said Lucy, taking a deep breath, and giving her most winsome look, "I was painting a picture of Susan and I want to finish it today. But, since Susan isn't here, I need a model." she paused, letting the full effect of her words sink in. "I need a model," she repeated.

Edmund gasped. Peter snickered.

"You would make a very nice Susan, Ed," he guffawed, holding his sides.

Edmund, switching rapidly from pained to a very pained expression, blushed deeply. He always assured his siblings that it was a blush of anger, not of embarrassment. His siblings begged to differ.

"No," he said flatly.

Lucy looked up at Peter and mouthed, "Brute force." Peter snickered again. Edmund, seeing the exchange and becoming increasingly suspicious, backed himself into a corner of the room and proceeded to barricade himself behind his writing desk.

"You'll never take me alive!" he yelled, as Peter lurched forward.

The scuffle, for scuffle it was, lasted only a few minutes. Taking Edmund by his scrawny arms and hoisting him over his desk, Peter sat on the unfortunate lad, and proceeded to discuss with Lucy which dress would best suit his complexion. Edmund struggled even harder hearing this.

Lucy, running down the hall into Susan's room, returned with a delightful red gown. Edmund looked at it with loathing.

"No," he said, starting again on the one-syllable word which had become his mantra. "No, no, no, no, no … NO!"

Peter, getting up off his brother, slipped the dainty red garment over said brother's ears. The sound of no, now muffled, could still be heard. Holding Edmund's hands above his head, and ignoring the frantic kicking, Peter motioned for Lucy to tie the laces.

"No, no, no, no," Edmund continued, when his mouth was free.

"You'd make such a pretty girl," Lucy teased. Edmund honoured her with a look of extreme anger and discomfort.

"You'll both pay for this," he snarled. Peter and Lucy exchanged a look of trepidation. Edmund was more than capable of dealing out some revenge.

"_Oh well_," thought Peter, with a smirk, "_Anything he does will be more then be worth this_." He hoisted his now screaming brother over his shoulder (not that he didn't struggle under the weight) and motioned for Lucy to lead on. "And hurry," he gasped, trying to balance the kicking mass.

The palace servants were startled, to say the least, to see their Magnificent King carrying _Queen Susan_ through the halls of Cair Paravel.

Wasn't she supposed to be visiting the Dryads? And since when had her hair been so short?

* * *

"Edmund sit down on that chair. Peter, tie his legs so he can't move." Lucy directed.

Peter placed Edmund on a rigid-backed chair and proceeded to tie his ankles.

"What about his hands?" he asked, as Edmund almost succeeded in pulling out a good handful of his golden hairs.

"He needs his hands," Lucy smiled. "To hold this!" A bowl of fruit was tossed into Edmund's unwilling arms.

"Very artistic," he scoffed. "Now all I need is a harp."

"Good idea, Ed," exclaimed Lucy brightly, her round face appearing over the edge of the canvas. "Peter," she added, turning to her brother, "I think that Susan keeps a harp on the hook above her mirror. Decoration and all that. Be a dear, won't you, and fetch it." Peter leapt up gaily and departed from the room.

"No, no, no," began Edmund again, trying to loosen the ropes around his feet. The bowl of fruit tipped precariously in his lap before tumbling to the ground.

Smash.

Edmund hid his satisfied grin, before hazarding a sly look at his fuming sister.

"Edmund," she said, "be a good little _Mona Lisa_ and hold still."

Mona Lisa. MONA LISA! That was the last straw.

Edmund, somehow, managed to loosen the bonds on his feet. He made a dash for the canvas, seized it from the easel, and threw it to the ground. The image, half Susan's face, half his own, was grotesque.

"Yuck," he exclaimed, looking at Lucy's masterpiece. Lucy, rather angry, seized her paintbrush and swiped it across her brother's face. Edmund, in retaliation, grasped a tube of paint (Faun's Fire Red - patent pending) and squeezed it hard. The war had begun.

Creak.

The door opened several minutes later, and a sheepish Peter entered the room. Unfortunately, he was not alone. Noble visitors from Archenland and Calormen, who had insisted upon seeing the witty King Edmund and charming Queen Lucy, stood behind him, gazing in unconcealed shock at the scene which met their eyes.

"Muhaha," cried Edmund, unaware that they were being watched. He was standing on a low table, resplendent in a paint-spotted crimson gown, with his hand raised, pelting Lucy with sponges and other artistic tools. Lucy, grinning broadly, was cowering behind a mirror, which she held before her as a kind of shield.

"Seven years bad luck," she sniggered, waving the glass.

"You coward!" Exclaimed Edmund, ceasing his barrage. He leapt from the table and tried to wrench the mirror from her grasp.

"Ahem," Peter coughed apologetically into his hand, alerting his siblings to his presence.

Lucy turned swiftly, mouth agape. Her face changed from it's usual pale pink to the Faun's Fire Red mentioned earlier. Edmund beat her though, in terms of colour, as his face turned an interesting shade of purple and white.

"P - Pe - PETER!" he gasped, his dark eyes taking in first his brother's embarrassed expression and then the people behind his brother. Their expressions were ranging from slight shock to cheerful amusement.

A plump, pretty damsel from Archenland pushed her way through the other nobles and gave poor Edmund a tight hug.

"Queen Susan!" she gushed. "It is an honour to meet you!"

If Edmund had not been so deprived of oxygen he would have; first, had a tantrum about being mistaken for Susan; second, smacked Peter's face mercilessly for laughing silently in the background; and lastly, he would have torn the dress he wore into a thousand shreds, warning everyone as he did so that if they dared laugh, it would be their last moment.

Being deprived of oxygen, however, Edmund could only endure the damsel's impulsive hug and hope that it wouldn't kill him. When she finally released him, he slumped to the ground and looked up at her with watering eyes.

"I'm a BOY!" he screamed.

The gathered ground looked at him with disbelieving eyes.

"Curse my pretty face," was all he could mutter, half-jokingly to himself, as he shot Lucy the death glare for the second time that day. Oh, if only looks could kill!

(End Flashback)

It hadn't ended so badly, Edmund reflected. They nobles had, eventually, believed him when he appeared before them in his proper attire. He had had his revenge, too, by making Peter walk around in Lucy's dress for a whole day. With the dress above his knees and the bodice bursting at the seams, it was a slightly more then sufficient revenge. Especially as that was the day that Peter received his first suitor. The look on the poor girl's face was priceless.

"Peter!"

Oh, no. Lucy had that pleading look on her face again.

"Yes, Lucy," Peter answered sweetly. Hadn't he learnt anything from that experience?

"I'm booored."

Edmund's palm made contact with his forehead.

"What would you like to do?" Asked Peter. Edmund gritted his teeth at the gullibility of his brother.

"Can you and Ed show me how to dance?"

Edmund fell off his chair.

"Of course," said kind Peter, shooting his brother an amused glance. Edmund interpreted it as malicious.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," sounded from the floor.

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Review? Please ^^


	2. A School Chum

**AN:** My apologies for the late update. Lack of motivation, a splitting migraine, and a period of being banned from the computer all came together to stop this chapter from being published. Anyway, I've finally slipped in an OC. He's not very original, perhaps, but he was fun to write and I can play with his character a bit more. Let me know what you think of him. (More author's notes at the bottom).

**Disclaimer:** Nothing here belongs to yours truly, except for Rupert George who fervently wishes that C.S. Lewis owned him, too.

* * *

"No."

Peter looked down at his brother, who's face held an expression of anger and flat out denial.

"What?" he asked, with a smirk.

"No," Edmund repeated, balling his fist and shaking it in his brother's face. "It isn't going to happen."

Turning to Lucy, he shot her a glance calculated to make even the bravest shiver in their boots. Lucy, unfortunately, merely giggled.

"Come along, Ed," she said, in a coaxing manner. "It will be fun."

"Don't you already know how to dance?" Edmund retorted, tottering to his feet.

"I know a lot of Narnian dances," said Lucy, hesitatingly, "but English dances are different."

"But why the sudden interest?"

"Well," said Lucy, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall, "I'm bored."

"Is that the only reason?" Edmund sighed, wondering mutinously, as he did so, where fauns were when you _really_ needed them.

"Of course," smiled Lucy, looking up at her brother with hope-filled eyes. Edmund, self-appointed party pooper, decided to extinguish that hope.

"I'm not doing it," he said, with a defiant shake of his head. Anything would be better than prancing around like some idiot with his brother, he decided. _His brother!_ As if dancing with Lucy wasn't bad enough! "And," he added, with a sideways glance at said brother, "take that grinning monkey out of here before he splits his face." Peter's grin only widened.

Lucy reached for Edmund's hand and grasped it in an iron grip. "You'll love it, Edmund," she laughed, dragging him into the centre of the room and motioning for Peter, with a wave of her free hand, to move the furniture out of the way.

"I hate it," gasped Edmund, wincing as Lucy's nails dug sharply into his hand. "You know I do! Dancing is for girls!"

"You loved it in Narnia," Lucy said thoughtfully, releasing her brother's hand. She strode quickly over to the window and drew the curtains.

"That was _Narnia_," said Edmund sullenly.

"I don't see the difference."

"Girls _never_ see the difference in _anything_," muttered Edmund, with a slight curl of his lip. He was growing more and more ill-tempered by the second.

"What was that?" asked Lucy, spinning on her heel suddenly.

"Nothing!" Edmund shook his head vehemently.

Lucy didn't reply with words. Instead, she strode purposefully into the centre of the room, grasped her brother's hand in a firm grip, and practically _threw_ him towards Peter, who caught him awkwardly before toppling to the ground. Edmund glared up at her.

"Do you _want_ to embarrass me?!" He shouted.

"No, of _course_ not," was Lucy's reply. If Edmund had been just a little less dazed from his collision into Peter, he would have noticed that Lucy's tone was a shade too innocent. But, suffering from a slight concussion, he settled with simply getting to his feet and gritting his teeth at his smiling sister.

"Let's just get it over with," he spat, rubbing his left arm which had struck the floor sharply.

Lucy tripped merrily to the side of the room and seated herself at the Pevensie's little piano. Striking up a merry tune, she grinned encouragingly at Peter, who, getting the hint, grabbed Edmund's by both hands and spun him around the room.

"I'll be sick!" threatened Edmund, glaring as maliciously as possible up at his cheerful brother. It is very difficult to look even remotely threatening when one can't feel the ground beneath one's feet.

Peter looked down at him in slight horror before extending the distance between them. "If you ruin my sweater -" he growled meaningfully,

"You and your precious sweater," mumbled Edmund. He turned to Lucy then, and added, "What dance do you want to learn, anyway?"

The piano jarred as Lucy's fingers left the keys. "Anything that you and Peter learned when you used to go to dancing lessons before the war."

"Dancing lessons?" Edmund scratched his head. Oh, yes. Now he remembered. He remembered a large, dimly-lit room with a couple of dozen, disgustingly cheerful little girls and a dozen sullen little boys who looked as though they'd rather be boiled alive then be there. He was a member of the latter; while Peter, being the golden child, was the only boy there who looked _happy_. The Dancing Class, Edmund recalled, was sixty minutes of pure torture. He remembered how eighty percent of the time, he would fall asleep behind a large mirror, only to be dragged out by an infuriated dancing teacher. He remembered being caned, several times, for tripping whoever happened to be his partner. He remembered –

"Edmund! Edmund?" A small hand, waved violently in front of his face, jolted him from the nightmare.

"What?" he snapped irritably, swatting the hand from his face.

"You were daydreaming," said Lucy simply.

"Daydreaming? Humph." Edmund crossed his hands and stood a considerable distance from his brother. He smirked deviously as Peter inspected his sweater, before continuing, in a dull voice: "And besides, I don't remember any dances."

"Well, I do," stated Peter, ignoring the look of frustration Edmund gave him. "I remember perfectly."

"Perfectly. Of course," muttered Edmund, rolling his eyes.

"Now," continued Peter, pretending he hadn't heard his brother's remark, "what dance, Lu?"

"A waltz!" exclaimed Lucy, a little too enthusiastically. Edmund quietly bemoaned about "poor, put upon older brothers", before placing his hand reluctantly in Peter's. If he squeezed a little harder then absolutely necessary, in order to make his older brother wince, said older brother didn't notice. In fact, said older brother gripped said younger brother's hand in an even tighter hold, thus beginning a brief wrestling match.

Lucy lifted her eyes from the piano just in time to see Peter throw Edmund to the ground. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as Edmund, in retaliation, kicked his brother on the shin. Laying her head on the smooth wood of the piano, she sighed deeply.

_Such mature and noble kings..._

Even in her thoughts, the sarcasm was unmistakable.

"Are you two_ quite_ finished?" she asked, trying to keep her expression stoic as Edmund looked up with an expression akin to how a kicked dog would look if you took his favourite bone.

"Of course!" Peter said cheerily, his hair just a little messed from the tussle. He leapt to his feet and extended a hand to his brother. "Come on, Ed. We might as well get it over with."

Edmund got to his feet with a scowl. "Yes," he growled, dusting off his pants, "the sooner the better."

The music began again. Peter grabbed Edmund's hand and was about to grab his waist, when a low snarl stopped him.

"If you think," began Edmund (who was wishing desperately that looks could kill), "that I am playing the part of the girl, you need to have your head examined."

"Well, I'm not going to be the girl!" exclaimed Peter.

"Well, neither am I."

"You're smaller."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm taller then you are. It would look plain silly if I was the girl, Ed. Can't you see that?"

"No," retorted Edmund flatly. "I can't."

The banter went back and forth until, finally, Peter, being the selfless and obliging brother that he was, agreed to be the girl. Under protest, of course. Getting down on his knees, so that his head was level with Edmund's chest, he motioned for Lucy to begin the music.

"And you'd better be grateful for this," he hissed, in a very Edmund-like tone. Edmund merely smiled and patted the top of his brother's head.

The dance, if it could even be called that, started off fluidly enough. Edmund, though he fumbled a little, managed to get by without any obvious errors. Peter was surprisingly nimble on his knees. He kept shouting out directions to Lucy, who would nod her auburn head and smile. Eventually, however, someone stumbled ... and it wasn't Peter.

"Are you okay, Edmund?" a concerned Lucy inquired, looking over her shoulder.

Edmund's face was twisted into a horrified look of shock. His usually pale face was a sickly shade of green and his mouth was open. He raised a shaking hand to the window. The curtains had been blown aside, letting in a sliver of sunshine and exposing the dance lesson to the world.

"Edmund?" asked Peter, rising from his knees to give his brother a hearty shake. "Edmund?"

"Ru - Ru -" stuttered Edmund, stumbling over to a low chair. "Ru -"

"Ru?" said Peter, lifting a brow in confusion. "What's a Ru?"

Edmund's face turned bright pink, and if one could die of embarrassment, he surely would have.

"Rupert George," he muttered, in a dead voice. Peter stared at his brother, blinked, and then matched his brother's cod-fish expression perfectly.

"Rupert George?" he gasped. "That sissy? Where did you see him?"

"At the window," said Edmund, turning to his brother with a look of dread. "You know what a gossip and a story-teller he is, Peter. He'll spread rumours all over school and we'll be the class idiots. Dancing with my brother, indeed." Edmund finished with a snort.

Peter, on the point of replying, was interrupted by a sound neither boy wished to hear. Namely, the sound of the door-bell ringing. Never had the cheery sound been so ominous.

_Ding-a-ling-dong._

The sound of their mother opening the door floated into the living room. Edmund cringed, while Peter wondered absently if beating a fellow classmate outside of school would be considered strictly courteous or High King-like. Darn the Rat! What was he doing at their house in the summer, anyway?

"Oh, you want to see Peter and Edmund?" their mother's voice had never sounded so grating. "They're in the living room. Second door down the hall. I'm sure they'd be glad to see one of their school chums."

_Chums, indeed._ Thought Edmund wryly. _Yes, my dear chum Rupert with the neck that I would love to wring_.

Edmund's murderous thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the boy himself. Tall and thin, with sleek, carefully curled mousy hair, squinting blue eyes and a long, narrow nose, he looked every inch his nickname: _Rat_. He skulked to the opposite end of the room and regarded his school _chums_ with pitying indifference.

"Pevensie," he said, addressing Peter, who started and narrowed his eyes. Edmund cringed at the sound of Rupert's voice. Nails scraped long and painfully down a chalkboard would be more appealing.

"George," was Peter's retort. You could have cut the tension with a knife.

"Let's cut to the chase, Pevensie," said Rupert, sitting down in a low arm-chair. "I saw you two, _dancing_." Oh, the contempt in his voice was tangible.

"We were showing Lucy how to dance," chimed in Edmund, daring the older boy with his angry glare to make a big deal of it.

"Pevensie the younger," said Rupert, tapping his long fingers together, "as plausible as that excuse sounds, I rather doubt that our fellow classmates will believe _you _once they hear my spin on the events." Rupert laughed cruelly, his eyes lighting up in sinister enjoyment.

"You snivelling little –" Edmund began, before he was interrupted by a stone-faced Peter.

"What do you want, George?" Peter said coldly. Hearing the tone, Edmund knew that his brother was one comment away from punch-your-daylights-out mad. He wondered what would tip him over the edge.

"Do my homework for a month, clean my boots after soccer practice and –" he paused, relishing the look of anger mirrored in Peter and Edmund's eyes. Seriously, this boy had a death wish – "and, taking into consideration your obvious knack for thinking up excuses, get me out of trouble -whenever I ask - with said excuses."

"I see," said Peter, gritting his teeth. "In a word – blackmail."

"I always knew you were smart, Pevensie," commented Rupert. He felt on top of the world, at the moment. Finally, the famous Pevensie brothers were cowering - and to his demands! Life was _excellent. _

Unfortunately for one Rupert George, the pedestal he was currently on was snatched from under him at the sound of the following words:

"Is that Rupert George?"

All three boys (and Lucy) spun at the sound. There stood Susan, still flushed from the fever, her expression friendly.

"Su - Susan!" spluttered the Rat. "I haven't seen you since –"

"Since your sister Sally's birthday party last year," finished Susan triumphantly.

Rupert's ears turned red. He gave her a somewhat wobbly smile.

"Ah, ah, yes. My, how the time flies. Don't forget my conditions, Pevensie and Pevensie the younger. Well, good-bye."

He was in the act of making a hasty retreat, when Susan spoke again.

"Yes," Susan was laughing now. Edmund could have sworn he saw a fiendish glint in her blue eyes. He shrugged it off with a sigh. Whoever heard of Susan the Gentle looking even remotely fiendish? It must have been a trick of the light. "Do you remember what happened at that party?"

"NO!" said Rupert, perhaps a little too loudly.

"You don't?" she asked. Edmund started and looked at his sister closely. Yes, that was definitely a glint. He chuckled lowly, wondering what Susan knew about Rupert that they didn't.

"No, I don't remember," said Rupert, shaking his head and sidling towards the door.

"Well, I remember," said Susan cheerfully. "Sit down Rupert. I'm sure that Peter and Edmund would simply _love_ to hear about it."

"I'm sure they would," hissed George, "But I really must be going. Dinner and all that. Good-bye all."

His dash for the door would have ended successfully if Lucy, of all people, hadn't extended a stockinged leg, effectively putting an end to his flight. Rupert George went flying through the air and landed in a sprawled heap near the piano. Peter and Edmund, seeing how the Rat's attempt at escape had played out, tripped blithely to their fallen school fellow, picked him up bodily, and deposited him in an armchair.

"Now," said Peter, looking Rupert straight in the face with a triumphant smirk, "I'm sure that we'd all love to hear Susan's story. Proceed, Susan."

Susan leant back comfortably and began her story.

* * *

**AN: **My apologies for any grammar, spelling, or historical mistakes. The aforementioned migraine took its toll, I'm afraid. And yes, there will be another chapter. Although I have a fairly good idea as to what Susan will reveal, any humorous and/or embarrassing suggestions will be greatly appreciated. Thank you ^^


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